


Shines So Bright It Blinds Me

by ElloPoppet



Series: WinterHawk Bingo Square Fills - 2019 [10]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Domestic Avengers, E-mail, Embedded Images, Flirting, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Humor, Internet, Light Angst, M/M, Makeup Artist Clint Barton, Memes, Mistaken Identity, Skype, Slow Build, Social Media, WinterHawk Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21420409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: “I have operated out in the world over the last thirty five years, Barton. Yes, I know what the internet is, goddamn.”Clint squinted at Bucky as though he recognized the statement to be inarguably true,and yet.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: WinterHawk Bingo Square Fills - 2019 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439719
Comments: 161
Kudos: 386
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	1. E-Mail

**Author's Note:**

> For WinterHawk Bingo 2019
> 
> Hi folks!  
Here is something ridiculous. I expect it to consist of probably 5-6 shortish chapters to complete one BINGO square fill because I don't know how to manage my time or my fics. Woops. On a positive note; this chapter will be my 10th square filled and my first BINGO! Woohoo!
> 
> Thanks for reading, y'all are my favs. Enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Upon writing the second chapter, I decided to take an out and do a BINGO square per chapter. I want to black out my card but I am so. damn. busy. And a bit overwhelmed with life and projects and family, truth be told. Please see end notes for square fills, and I'll tag each chapter on Tumblr as it's finished.   
All my love,  
EP

“I have operated out in the world over the last thirty five years, Barton. Yes, I know what the internet is, goddamn.” 

Clint squinted at Bucky as though he recognized the statement to be inarguably true, _and yet._

“Yeah, but there’s the internet for super secret hacker-spy nonsense, and then there’s the world wide web which is filled with memes, blogs, and other amazing nonsense. Do you know how to operate both?” Clint challenged. 

Bucky worried his lip, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I know how to read routing payouts to Swiss bank accounts and how to override Friday if I really, really wanted to,” Bucky replied slowly, unhelpful. From the other side of the breakfast table, Tony’s head perked in interest at that last bit. 

“I’m sorry but what now?” Tony asked, mouth full of cheerios. Both Clint and Bucky waved him off simultaneously. 

“Rogers, what you have you been doing this whole time? Barnes has been here for what, like six weeks? And you haven’t shown him the good stuff. What was Fury thinking, putting one of you in charge of bringing the other up to speed?” Clint grumbled, a little playful and a lot serious. 

Steve’s mouth gaped. “Clint, I guess I just figured that it would be more important for him to learn about other things first?”

Clint turned in his chair to settle his gaze on Bucky, who was looking back and somewhat amused. 

“Do you know how to set yourself up a Google account?” Clint asked. 

The amusement was quickly wiped clean off of Bucky’s face and Clint sighed, letting his fork clatter onto his nearly finished plate of eggs. 

“Goddammit, I gotta do everything. Barnes, with me, stat, post haste, whatever.” Clint pushed his chair back and left the table, hoping that Bucky was following him and reassured that he was a few beats later based on the shuffle and footsteps trailing. Clint didn’t bother to look backward when he heard Tony snark from behind them. 

“Did Barton really just say that he has to do everything? _Everything?"_

Clint did smile, however, at Bucky’s responding snort of laughter before the door closed behind them. 

*

“I don’t understand how every single name has already been taken. It’s _my_ name!” Bucky hit the backspace key on his laptop harder than necessary as he deleted yet another failed attempt to choose an email address. He sat on one side of Clint’s couch and Clint sat on the other, close but not too close, a grin spreading across his face that he simply couldn’t stop.

__

__

“You’re not wrong, but I also think you underestimate how popular you are. I mean, you were always popular with the history buffs, but now? Us bona fide superheroes have fans, Bucky. Why do you think my email address isn’t Hawkeyeisthebest@gmail.com?” 

“I don’t know. There’s no way that’s taken,” Bucky snarked, and Clint laughed. He was still getting used to how much of a jerk Barnes could be, how funny he could be when he wanted. His first month at the Tower? That certainly hadn’t been the case. But the guy was coming around, at least around the team.

After acquainting Barnes to the internet, Clint decided, he would get him out into the world a bit. Maybe a walk in the park or a parkour session, rooftop to rooftop. Whatever mood struck them. 

“Finally,” Bucky bit out, annoyed. “That should not have been so difficult. But there, I have an email account. Are you happy? Satisfied?” Bucky turned the screen, and Clint leaned over to take a gander. 

_hawkeyeisnotthebest@gmail.com_

“I hate you,” Clint said, awed and a little impressed. 

Bucky smiled. Clint's stomach dipped, and that was that…until Clint checked his email later that night, his laptop and phone pinging in tandem from the coffee table as he napped on the couch, TV playing softly in the background. 

“From: hawkeyeisnotthebest@gmail.com  
To: hawkguyCFB@gmail.com  
Subject: I’m better self taught

Barton,

I’ll have you know that I figured out Google just fine and taught myself how to look for things, look up pictures, and the Spiderkid was around earlier and showed me what memes are. Thanks for getting me started, but I’ve got it from here, I think, oh guru of mine. 

(this is all kind of fucking overwhelming though. How are there millions of results when I type in my name? And even more when I search yours? The world makes no sense)

Sincerely,  
James Barnes”

Clint read the email several times and worked through multiple stages; befuddlement, amusement, tenderness, and then downright hilarity. He laughed until his sides ached and tears rolled down his cheeks. There was something truly bizarre about the whole thing, being on the receiving end of the first email sent by the Winter Soldier, the Howling Commando James Buchanan Barnes himself. And it even included a shitty-yet-subject-appropriate meme. 

Clint would have to slip the Spiderling a twenty next time he was around. 

Without thought, Clint started firing off a reply, wiping residual tears of laughter from his eyes as he did so. 

“From: hawkguyCFB@gmail.com   
To :hawkeyeisnotthebest@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: I’m better self taught

Dear Sincere James Barnes (really, how proper of you)-

Fine. I’ll concede that you’re doing pretty well for an old man. Though I do want to point out that it’s considered cheating to ask a gen-z for help finding memes. I applaud the tactic but dock points for considering yourself to be self-taught. 

What do you want to do next? Facebook? Twitter? Tumblr? Instagram? I could scar you for life and show you what fanfiction is all about. You know how to google now, you decide and I’ll help you out. Wouldn’t want you to break something.

Best Regards (or some shit),  
Clint”

The response was nearly immediate, and Clint’s heart ached with something similar to adoration as he read. 

“From: hawkeyeisnotthebest@gmail.com  
To: hawkguyCFB@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: Re: I’m better self taught

Asshole,

You’re on. Show me all of them?

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49059900917/in/dateposted/)

Best fucking wishes,  
Bucky”

Clint couldn’t wait to get started, and found himself wanting to race up to Bucky’s floor at that exact moment (he knew he was awake, after all). The realization startled him enough to keep him there, glued to his laptop, reading two short e-mails over and over until he fell asleep for the night, clothes still on and hearing aids still snug in the crests of his ears.


	2. Facebook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For WinterHawk Bingo 2019
> 
> Upon writing the second chapter, I decided to take an out and do a BINGO square per chapter. I want to black out my card but I am so. damn. busy. And a bit overwhelmed with life and projects and family, truth be told. Please see end notes for square fills, and I'll tag each chapter on Tumblr as it's finished.  
All my love,  
EP

“Who is that?” Bucky asked, leaning into Clint’s space on the couch where they sat thigh to thigh, laptops on respective laps. “He’s all over your site...thing.”

Clint snorted. “My page? Yeah. That’s my idiot brother. I tried to tell Stark that I didn’t want him being able to find me on here, but it was useless. Barney’s smarter than he looks. And acts. And is.”

Bucky looked puzzled. “That. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Shush. Upload your damn profile picture and leave me alone for two seconds. I haven’t been on here in ages.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Clint scrolling through his Facebook page, occasionally chortling or letting out gusts of amused breaths at the links and memes posted by Pete and occasionally Kate. He ignored the ridiculous posts from his brother; sappy images overlapped with misspelled words about the importance of family, the distance of hearts, yadda yadda. Apparently, no matter how quickly he scrolled, Bucky wasn’t one to let things go without notice. 

“He seems to miss you.”

That was all it took. Five words, and Clint somehow went from mildly annoyed but mostly okay to just...not okay. 

“Leave it alone, Barnes, Christ. Are you capable of doing that for two fucking seconds? Just, leaving me alone?” 

Silence fell between then, save for Clint’s raggedy breathing. He hadn’t _meant_ to snap at Bucky; he knew that he didn’t mean any harm, but he also knew that Bucky didn’t have a single clue what he was talking about. 

When the silence was broken, it was via two sheepish, simultaneous and incomplete apologies. 

“Clint, I’m so-”

“Look, I didn’t mean-”

They paused and Clint smiled first, Bucky melting with relief a moment later. Though the room again went quiet, it wasn’t wholly uncomfortable this time, and Clint was nearing the feeling of being fully relaxed once more when Bucky nudged him, prosthetic to the ribs.

“How’s this one?” Bucky asked, tilting his laptop screen so that Clint could see which profile photo he had chosen. The moment Clint got an eyeful, he squeezed his eyes shut to try and avoid laughing in Bucky’s face. 

“The kid show you this one too?” Clint asked, amused and breathing through the urge to lose his shit. When he opened his eyes, Bucky was grinning, that blinding smile and the small crinkles in the corners of his eyes throwing Clint off a bit. 

“Nope. Found that one myself. I’m keepin’ it.” Clint watched as Bucky set the photo as his profile picture and leaned back, arms crossed, and obviously impressed with himself as he looked at his very new, very blank and very highly secured Facebook page. 

“Now what do I do with it?”

“You find friends. Go up to that search bar and look for us, you should have access. Mark Z. lets Friday into the FB mainframe for our security, ain’t that right sugar?” Clint asked.

“That’s right, Agent Barton. It’s a mess in there,” Friday’s voice rang out from around them. Bucky didn’t startle beside Clint, which Clint took as a good thing. It had taken him a bit to get used to Friday, to learn how to utilize her and all of her capabilities. Clint knew full well that Bucky found it endearing (well, at the very least entertaining) when Clint flirted with the AI, and so Clint did it as much as possible in his presence. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and pressed onward. “So the only people that you’re friends with are the rest of the team? And your brother?” 

Clint thought on it for a moment before nodding. “Basically. There are some old buds from the SHIELD glory days, if you can call them that, and a few tenants from the apartment complex in Bed-Stuy...Kate...America...but yeah. Basically. Once you find them, you hit that right there...yep. You just sent a friend request to Steve. I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed and real proud, something along those lines.”

Bucky laughed. “Can he tell me no? I’ll smack the daylights outta the punk if he does, but if I don’t wanna be friends with someone can I turn it down?”

“Sure. Might make it awkward, though, since only a very small group of folks have clearance. If you wanna be friends with someone on the ‘outside,’ so to speak, they have to go through the process with Tony.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Clint. “Unless it’s your brother.”

Clint cleared his throat. “Unless it’s my bastard brother.”

Clint watched Bucky set aside his laptop, over on the empty couch cushion, before turning more towards Clint, eyes curious but hesitant. 

“If you hate your brother so much, then why did you accept his friendship invitation?”

“Friend request,” Clint corrected quickly, instinctively. Bucky simply stared. Clint ran both hands over his face. 

“You’ve read my file, I know you have. I know Barney’s in my file, so what else is there to know? He comes around when he wants, he gets what he wants, and he splits. It’s not my favorite kinda bromance, Buck.” Clint could feel his throat tightening, knew it could be heard in his voice. Clint didn’t move as Bucky gently removed the laptop from Clint’s lap, setting it onto the table. In fact, for whatever reason, the action made Clint feel _cared for_, and he felt the walls to his dam shake. 

“Which is real shitty, because he’s all I got. Parents? Dead. No extended family to speak of. Only friends I had as a child were petty criminals or carnies who were also mostly petty criminals, or else they were the old nice ones who have passed by now too. So as far as family ties go, or any tie to who I was before I became a goddamn assassin? Barney. That’s it, and that ain’t nothing but a blood tie with a moment of real brotherhood here and there and then poof!” 

Clint inhaled and the breath was ratchety, catching in his throat. He hadn’t noticed as he was talking, but he did take notice once he stopped that Bucky’s hand had found its way to the back of his neck, the cool metal fingertips carding through the short buzz of his hair. When he found it in him to look up, Clint was startled to see the concern and the empathy in Bucky’s face, clear as day. Because of course Bucky would understand, wouldn’t he?

“Fuck,” Clint spat. “I’m such a futzing asshole. Thanks for letting me bitch about everyone from my childhood being an asshole or dead and all that, but you shoulda shut me up, Buck. I don’t try to be such an inconsiderate asshole, you know.” Clint reached out and squeezed Bucky’s knee once before removing his hand. 

Bucky’s hand continued carding his hair and it was soothing, grounding. 

“Nah,” Bucky said quietly. “I mean, sure. I don’t have anyone either, other than Stevie. But I got Stevie, and he acts like a brother should act. I’m sorry yours is shitty, Clint. You deserve better.”

The words settled somewhere between Clint’s ribs and rooted beneath his lungs, within his chest. It wasn’t the first time he had heard the sentiment, but coming from Bucky? It was the first time that he thought maybe the words rang true.

Clint managed a small smile. “You’re not a bad guy, Barnes.”

Bucky squeezed the back of Clint’s neck lightly before removing his arm. He picked up his laptop and, as if nothing had happened, grinned cheekily at Clint. 

“So, you wanna be my friend or what?”

Seconds later, when Bucky’s friend request pinged in Clint’s notifications, Clint let himself laugh at the most ridiculous profile picture he had ever seen. 

“You’re a grown ass man with a meme as a profile picture, Barnes,” Clint said gleefully, accepting the request without thought. “I kinda fucking love it.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49094474903/in/dateposted/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Clint's Childhood
> 
> Also, none of the memes that I've used thus far have absolutely not been my own. They are either very popular and widely used memes, or memes found easily on Google. I don't know exactly where they originated from because they're everywhere, but I wanted to clarify that I'm not clever or funny enough to make a worthy meme ;)


	3. Twitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. I'm having waaaaay too much fun with this.

“Okay, so...what do I use it for?”

Clint thought for a moment, throwing an arrow into the air and catching it from where he lay flat on the floor of the gym. Sweat was cooling on his skin and clothes, making him feel cold in spite of the stifling humidity and heat in the room. He watched as the bruises on his right arm grew darker where Bucky had grabbed him during sparring, internally giving Bucky praise for not completely crushing him with his prosthetic. It would have been an easy thing to do, Clint knew. 

“What do you mean? Pretty self explanatory. You have however many characters to say whatever you want. You’re set up with an official account, so I’m sure you’ll have followers in no time. So just don’t say anything incredibly dumb or controversial and you’ll be fine.”

Clint looked over to where Bucky sat leaning against a matted wall, feet crossed at the ankles, laptop perched on his thighs. Clint’s gaze froze there for a few long seconds before he pulled his eyes away, tossing the arrow up once more.

That man? Wearing shorts like that? Probably illegal in a few countries due to public decency laws. Clint chuckled at the thought. 

“You, telling me not to say anything dumb? I don’t think I like Twitter,” Bucky mused, brow still furrowed toward the screen. Clint laughed. 

“Just trying to protect you from having to have a meeting with Pepper. Or Fury. Or for fuck’s sake, both.” Clint listened to Bucky clack at a few keys before going silent. 

“Well? What’s your first tweet, old man? Are you gonna go off on how everything’s different or how kids these days have no respect?” Clint groaned as he sat up, lower back protesting with a crack and a pop. Clint set the arrow aside and crawled toward where Bucky was sitting. Bucky watched him with a look of amusement and...something else that Clint couldn’t quite pin down. When Clint sat back against the wall, his left shoulder pressing against Bucky’s right, he leaned over and peeked at the screen. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49132726122/in/dateposted/)

“Oh. Oh my futzing Christ almighty, I think I love you,” Clint said playfully, eyes widening. “You’re going to die. Steve is going to kill you. Can I sell tickets to the Super Soldier Death Match? But wait!” Clint cried loudly, leaning over to put his hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing. “I bet Tony murders you first. Damn. I coulda made a good dollar on that death match.”

Bucky grinned, his lips spreading prettily, face flushed pink. “You think this might help with all that sexual tension in the air? I’m literally chokin’ on it, Clint.” Bucky patted Clint’s hand with his own and Clint withdrew, ignoring the chill of the loss of contact on the palm of his hand. 

“Man. So many surprises. Never thought that teaching you to use social media would lead to you trying to hook up your bro with Tony Stark. Or any other dude, to be honest. It’s pretty cool of you to be all…” Clint waved his hand about, aware that Bucky was looking at him like he was a flailing lunatic. “...gay friendly.”

Bucky snorted. “Why? Because of when I was born?” Bucky regarded him as Clint nodded, acquiescing to honesty. Bucky opened his mouth and looked like he was going to go off in a mighty way, before closing his mouth and breathing in deeply. Bucky looked back at his screen for a time and refreshed, watching his like and retweet count climb exponentially in a matter of minutes. When Bucky met Clint’s eye once more, it drove the breath from Clint’s lungs. 

“You seem alright with it, ya know? I know you’re a fair fucking hop younger than me and Stevie, but you’re still a big muscly superhero who wears ridiculous sunglasses and doesn’t do anything to your hair when you get outta bed. And you still seem okay with it, me hoping to fix up Stevie and Stark.” Bucky spoke slowly and it took Clint a bit to realize that he was waiting for confirmation. 

“Well, yeah. Of course I’m okay with it, Buck. It would be real damn hypocritical of me not to be.” Clint swallowed, a useless action with how dry is mouth and throat were. He shrugged. “Didn’t wanna scare you off since I think we might be getting to be actual friends, here, but everyone else on the team knows that I, uh. I rock the boat both ways, you know?”

Clint didn’t know what he expected when he came out to Bucky, but the reaction that Bucky gave was still startling nonetheless. Bucky covered his face and _laughed_, really laughed, something uproarious and nearing obnoxious. 

Holy fuck, did it make Clint feel high. 

“Fucking hell, Barton. Rock the boat both ways? I know you’ve gotta be pushin’ 40, but what the fuck gives you the balls to feel like you can talk like that and get away with it, you bisexual asshole?” Bucky said, tears of laughter in his eyes and a shit eating grin on his face. “Christ, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”

Clint’s face warmed up, and he knew he was turning red from his clavicles to his cheeks. He opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what but it likely wasn’t going to be appropriate, but was saved by a twinkling tone from Bucky’s laptop. Both Clint and Bucky leaned forward together. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49132829192/in/dateposted/)

“Oh, hell. You’ve really done it, you sonofabitch,” Clint breathed, barely unable to contain his joy. Bucky was smiling and scrutinizing the screen. 

“What’s the little ‘at’ sign for? Is that how you tag on Twitter?” Bucky asked, pointing. _Adorable_. 

“Sure is, Lollipop.” Clint clamped his mouth shut when Bucky looked at him in partial surprise, partial confusion. Clint shrugged his shoulders. 

“Honestly? Don’t know where that came from.”

Bucky rolled with it. “What’s your Twitter name...handle...thing? I’m going to tag you in so much stupid shit that you’re going to regret the day you agreed to do this.”

Another chime had their heads snapping to the screen. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49132174243/in/dateposted/)

“Holy shit,” they both said together before erupting in giggles, missed high-fives, and playful smacks. 

Clint knew that there would never be a day when he regretted spending this time with Bucky, but he figured that he would keep that under wraps. For now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Match Making


	4. Tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am LATE with this chapter, and also Tired and Sorry. Turns out that the holidays are exhausting this year and I've stretched myself thin with writing goals, work stuff and family stuff. Thanks for being patient! I should be back on track with chapter 5 this Wednesday. 
> 
> I couldn't find a Tumblr message generator online, so I used formatting instead of embedded images this time around, which was disappointing for me. However, this chapter is long compared to the others, so I hope that helps make up for it!
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking around for...well, whatever this is.

Clint would most definitely have been lying if he said he didn’t feel moderately-to-severely disappointed to learn that the Spiderkid had shown Bucky how to create and use a Tumblr profile while Clint himself had been on mission. 

“Two days!” Clint lamented, and though he couldn’t actually see the kid’s face he did get the feeling that his eyes had widened. “He couldn’t have waited for two freakin’ days until I got back? Ugh. I’m gonna wipe the floor with him.”

The kid backed off, hands up in the air. “”M sorry, Mr. Barton. I didn’t realize that it was so…” the air was thick with his pause. “...important to you.”

Clint sighed. “It’s not. Well, it shouldn’t be. It’s. Nothing. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Homework to do or a Stark to be weird with, P-uh, perhaps?” 

Clint nearly slipped, but he didn’t think Peter had noticed and if he did, he didn’t mention it. He simply sent off a salute, requested that Friday open the nearest window, and climbed out of the room. Clint let out a breath; it was harder that it should be, keeping it to himself that he knew Parker’s identity. But if the kid wanted to be anonymous? Hell, Clint could give him that, even though he ached to be able to celebrate with someone that he had figured it out. 

Clint was smarter than anyone gave him credit for, after all. 

*

The same, however, could _not_ be said for Bucky. 

Clint didn’t know what the ever living fuck was happening with Barnes, but the guy was acting so incredibly weird around him that the idea of a doppelganger flashed into Clint’s mind multiple times in the three days since Clint had returned from his mission. That was ridiculous, he knew, and yet he found himself wary on his fourth day home when Bucky wouldn’t hold eye contact with him and seemed to be _constantly futzing blushing_. 

Clint was either going to corner him the gym and pummel it outta him (which, well, would likely lead to him getting pummeled himself and he simply wasn’t in the mood), or he was going to explode. Not even Bucky’s Tumblr page gave any indication that anything weird was going on and if anything, it confirmed to Clint that Bucky had not been replaced with a changeling after all. Only Bucky would reblog such an odd mixture of World War II facts and stories, pictures of adorable animals, the most groan-worthy memes known to man, and the odd artsy painting or photograph of nature every now and again. 

Clint paced around his apartment for a few minutes after the most awkward team dinner he had ever been apart of during which Bucky smiled shyly at him and said bizarre, single word phrases that made absolutely no sense. He didn’t know what to do; was Bucky’s programming coming back? Were Clint’s hearing aids on the fritz or receiving the wrong feedback?

Eventually, Clint plunked down on his couch and fired up his laptop, where he was already logged into his Tumblr. Not because he had been stalking Bucky or anything. Because of course he hadn’t been doing that. 

Clint bounced to Bucky’s blog and hit the little messenger button, typing out a quick ‘hey’ before he could second guess himself, waiting for a response from Bucky, whose blog name shone with the telltale green circle of recent activity. Not two seconds later, a response popped up. 

**h-aw-kguy**  
hey

**jbb317**  
who is this?

**h-aw-kguy**  
it’s in the name, Bucko. it’s Clint. who else would it be?

**jbb317**  
haha, very funny. is this Kate? Spider-Man?

**h-aw-kguy**  
Bucky, it’s Barton. you ok? ask Friday, she’ll confirm for you if you need her to.

There was a long wait between Clint’s message and Bucky’s response. Clint’s concern mounted and he chastised himself for it. Bucky was a fully grown superhuman, for fuck’s sake, and given that there weren’t alarms blaring from every which way it could only be assumed that nobody had busted in to kidnap/kill/hold him hostage.

However, three minutes of squirming later, Clint opened his mouth to ask Friday how Bucky was doing, maybe request a read on his vitals. Just in the nick of time, Bucky responded to Clint’s message. 

**jbb317**  
this is so fucking stupid, Clint, or not Clint, whoever you are. why would you make a second account? Friday says that you only have this account. what the fuck.

**h-aw-kguy**  
uh, dude. are you high? I thought you couldn’t get high. this is my only account. 

**jbb317**  
if this is really Barton tell me something only he would know.

Clint rubbed his eyes. He was too old and tired for this shit. He should just march on down to Bucky’s room with his laptop, give him the proof that he obviously needed (which, to be honest, stung a bit), and be done with all of Bucky’s recent...weirdness.

**h-aw-kguy**  
I can tell you that you’ve been actin real weird since i’ve been back from mission with Nat and i have no idea why. 

Another pause. Clint chewed at the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. 

**jbb317**  
jesus christ. it’s because of the flirting, you stupid asshole. god you’re too smart to be so dense.

Clint reeled backward and hit the back of his couch hard. Flirting? Clint knew that he could lay it on thick sometimes, that he _liked_ Bucky, but Bucky had never reacted out of character to his playful flirting. Had Clint done something to make Bucky uncomfortable? Had he crossed a line before leaving for mission and...forgotten?

Clint didn’t think so. He was big on consensual fuckery and flirting and could typical tell when others were uncomfortable. As far as Clint had been concerned, Bucky gave as good as he got.

Clint was so lost in thought and bewilderment that he realized Bucky had sent another message. 

**jbb317**  
and beside you’re the one acting goddamn weird. it’s a pretty dick move to ignore all of our inside jokes when we’re together in person. makes me not know what to think.

What. The. Fuck.

Clint left his laptop on his coffee table and strode out of his apartment, not bothering to close the door behind him and not even sparing it a second thought until he was nearly to Buck’s door. He knocked two, three, four times in loud and quick succession. Bucky answered almost immediately. His face was still flushed as it had been, but this time Bucky seemed _pissed_ rather than shy.

“What are you playing at, asshole?” Bucky asked, anger sharp in his voice even as he stepped aside to let Clint into the apartment. “And if you claim memory loss, that’s bullshit. I checked in with medical.”

Clint spun around to face Bucky, who slammed the door shut and faced Clint just as quickly, his own arms crossing in a mirror image of how Clint was standing. 

“You checked with medical? Jesus on a goddamned cracker, Bucky, what the fuck is happening. What inside jokes? What...what flirting? Why do I feel like I’ve really missed something here?” Clint unfolded his arms and gestured broadly. He wanted to stop there, heart himself escalating, but there was still a dagger digging into his chest, causing him pain. 

“And what’s with needing verification that I’m me? If it’s a security measure, yeah okay, I get it. Good on ya. But to keep questioning me even after Friday confirmed my identity? I thought you knew me better than to think that I would try to, I don’t even know Buck...trick you?”

Bucky’s stance wavered, and he stared at Clint in disbelief. “Gee,” he bit out after a moment, and Clint was simultaneously stung and impressed at the amount of sarcasm living within that single syllable, “it _might_ have something to do with the fact that every other time we’ve messaged, you’ve used your other profile? How was I supposed to know that you were making a new one, or whatever?”

Clint growled in frustration and stepped into Bucky’s space, reaching up and grounding the palms of his hands to the tops of Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky’s eyes met him, big and wide and gorgeous. 

“Bucky. I DO NOT have another blog, and today was the first time that I’ve messaged you on Tumblr. Ever. Period. End of the line and all that.” Clint held eye contact and neither of them blinked, until suddenly Bucky looked panic-stricken. 

“Oh...fuck. Oh my fucking god. I am such a goddamn idiot.” Bucky shrugged out of Clint’s mild grasp and stepped around him, snatching his laptop from the kitchen counter and bringing it to Clint. He clicked a few times and then spun the screen around. 

“So this guy...this person isn’t you?” Bucky asked, his voice flat and unreadable. Clint squinted at the Tumblr page on the screen, a blog belonging to hawkeyeisthebest. 

In that moment, Clint’s self-control crumbled into a pile of dust and scattered into the wind, and he let out a peal of laughter so loud that he made himself jump. 

“No, you dumbass! It isn’t me! Did you not even think to ask Friday?”

Bucky’s face fell and he pouted. “No. I didn’t think that...I mean you said that you wanted that for your e-mail so when you messaged me I just...assumed.”

Clint shook his head and grinned. “Buck. There are just...a shitfuckton of people on the internet, man, on every social media site. Always check with me or Fri, okay? Don’t want you to get swindled or catfished or anything like that.”

Bucky nodded and swallowed, his head tilted downward, hair curtaining around his face. Clint could read the feeling there, and he honestly didn’t know what do to with it. 

“So, you and this...person. Inside jokes? Flirting?” Clint asked, and he tried to 1) ignore how his heart beat wildly in his chest at the thought that Bucky and the Impostor had flirted and Bucky was now sad to learn that it hadn’t been Clint all along, and 2) he asked the questions softly and without judgment because hell, it wasn’t Bucky’s fault. 

Bucky’s face was as red as a goddamn crayon as he nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Not your fault, obviously. I, jesus, I probably have seemed like a crazy asshole the last few days.”

Clint hummed, gears turning in his head. “Yeah, a bit. Hey, can I read what you and Not-Me said to one another? Let me in on my own inside jokes? See how it is that you think I flirt?” Clint reached for Bucky’s laptop, stopping when Bucky slammed it closed in a hurry.

“Hell no. You can go now, rude-ass,” Bucky said, and Clint was glad to see a smirk growing on his face and a bit of light returning to those eyes. 

“Aww, Bucky. Whatever Not-Me was doing was obviously workin’ like a charm! C’mon, let me read and maybe learn a thing or two, make it easier to really sweep you off your feet.” Clint winked and Bucky tilted his head back and laughed, something small and breathy. 

“Fuck you, Barton. Want a beer?”

“Oh my god, you’ve had beer this whole time and you’re just now asking me? What would your Ma say about your hospitality skills, Bucky, damn.” 

Bucky smiled and shook his head, and Clint thought to himself that maybe they had each been doing some sweeping for some time now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Mistaken Identity


	5. AO3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...this was fun. Ridiculous, but fun.

“Bucky, I keep forgetting to tell you that I tried that spiced tea recipe you told me about awhile back. It really did hit the spot, thanks. Where did you pick up how to brew it?”

Bruce’s voice had always been soothing to Clint, and in that moment it was particularly so. The three of them were driving back to the upstate compound following a visit to the city, Clint behind the wheel of one of Tony’s mid-range ridiculous sports cars. The air sifting through Clint’s fingers as he hung his hand out of the window was crisp and smelled clean, and the sky was clear, heading down towards the horizon. Bucky was stretched out in the backseat, legs crossed at the ankles, and occasionally their eyes met in the rear view mirror. The two hour drive was spent mostly in silence, Bucky on his phone, Bruce gifting them with the timbre of his calming voice with random questions and observations, and Clint catching bits of the radio in between. 

It was glorious, a drive that Clint never wanted to come to an end. Well, until Bucky ruined the entire damn ambiance by being an accidental little shit.

Silence stretched on in the car, and Bruce met Clint’s eyes and cocked an eyebrow before turning back to look at Bucky. Bucky, who had blatantly left Bruce’s question ignored and unanswered. 

“You alright back there, Buck?” Bruce asked. For his trouble he received a vague grunt of affirmation. 

Bruce pressed. “You sure? You and that phone haven’t become one? Technology hasn’t stolen your will or means to communicate with the humans anymore?”

Clint watched in the mirror as Bucky finally looked away from his phone and gave Bruce an exasperated glare. 

“...what?” Bucky grumbled, and Clint wasn’t sure if his pouting or Bruce’s sly grin toward said pouting was more adorable. 

“What has you so interested back there, James?” Bruce asked and Clint thought, not for the first time, that it wasn’t fair the way Bruce could make Bucky’s given name sound so casual. It was a nice name. A pretty name, even.

“Readin’.” With that, Bucky turned his attention back to his phone and Bruce’s grin grew wider as he returned to facing the front. 

Clint couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t. “Whatcha readin’ back there, Buck?” he called, antagonistic and teasing, knowing damn well what Bucky was reading. Clint watched in delight as Bucky threw up his middle finger, eyes not leaving his phone. 

“I might have showed him the way to some quality reading material during our internet exploration extravaganza,” Clint said lowly to Bruce, but not low enough to escape Bucky’s notice. It took less than a second for Bruce’s eyes to widen and light up like a young child on fucking Christmas.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I had to, don’t you think?”

“What platform?”

Clint leveled an ‘are you kidding me?’ glare over at Bruce. “C’mon, now. I took him right to the quality stuff.”

Bruce shifted in his seat completely, back to the passenger side door, so that he could face Bucky dead on. By this point, Bucky had given up pretending to ignore their conversation and his phone was in his lap, his cheeks tinged with pink. 

“So. How is your first foray into fanfiction going, hmm?” Bruce challenged and holy shit, Clint wondered why everybody always assumed that he was the peacekeeper, that he was meek in his human form, because much to Clint’s never ending delight Bruce could be an absolute menace. 

“It’s...it’s been something,” Bucky stated slowly. “There’s, uh, there’s a lot. It’s real weird, reading what people think you’re like, or the things that you might say, or learnin’ who all these people wish you were fuckin’.” 

Clint and Bruce both laughed outright at that, because wasn’t _that_ the truth. 

“You find anything you like?” Bruce asked cloyingly. Clint watched in the mirror how the pink in Bucky’s cheeks deepened into a more solid red.

“Yeah, I s’pose. Some of these folks have real talent, ya know? And I think I’m starting to figure out the tag things to know which ones I don’t really wanna read.” Bucky’s voice grew a bit louder now, more sure and confident. “Did you know that everybody wants Clint to bang every single one of us? Like, every one of us. There’s a lot of people who think Steve and I, or Steve and Tony, or Tony and you, Bruce...but _everyone_ wants Clint to sleep with _everyone_.” 

Clint felt his own cheeks heat up a bit and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from blurting out how most of those folks could screw off, because Clint was really only interested in sleeping with one of them at the moment. 

“Yeah, we know. You ever hear Tony call Clint the team bicycle?” Bruce said, and Clint smacked him on the knee with the back of his hand. From the back of the car, Bucky guffawed. 

“Jesus Christ, that’s why? That’s fantastic. Somehow, that makes me actually _like_ Stark a bit more.” 

Clint met Bucky’s eyes in the mirror. His stomach dipped at the look on Bucky’s face, open and challenging. Fuck.

“How much time have you spent reading about yourself on there, Buck?” Clint asked, playing like a joke but sincere in his curiosity.

Bucky shrugged. “A bit. I like any of the ones with Thor and any of the team, because they’re all either real nice or hilarious. The one I’m reading right now though is...different.” There was a pregnant pause that lasted long enough to be on just this side of awkward, before Bucky continued, rushed and forceful. 

“You’re in it with me, Clint, and I’m a boxer, which is real weird because I don’t know anything about boxing? Not really. But I gotta say, you seem real into me boxing. Listen to this, listen to this.” There was the shuffling of movement from the backseat and Clint was overwhelmed with anticipation and molten curiosity as Bucky leaned forward between himself and Bruce, phone held up in front of his face and his hair brushing against Clint’s shoulder as Bucky got himself comfortable and all settled in. Clint swallowed and chanced a peek over to Bruce who, as Clint shoulda damn well guessed, was boring into him with a knowing stare.

Clint adjusted in his seat and sped up just a touch.

Bucky cleared his throat, scrolled for a moment, and started to read. It took Clint a moment to tune into the words themselves, the distraction of Bucky’s reading voice and the change of his cadence throwing him off for a moment. When he did refocus, he regretted it instantly.

“...Clint could only watch Bucky pummel into his opponent, sweat glistening in his newly cropped hair beneath the fluorescent lights of the gym. Bucky was shirtless and Clint’s mouth went dry at the way that Bucky moved, lightening fast, corded muscles pulling and stretching every time he hopped around on dancer’s feet. Bucky’s gym shorts hung loosely on his hips and how the other guy wasn’t distracted, Clint didn’t know. He just watched, heart beating wildly and cock growing hard until Bucky landed the find blow, his boxing glove bringing with it the sound of finality as he knocked his opponent in the jaw with his left arm, which seemed to whir happily as the man fell to a heap on the mat. After a breath, Bucky turned and found Clint watching. Bucky’s chest was heaving, he was shining, and it took every ounce of self-control for Clint not to come instantly when Bucky sent him a wink.”

Jesuseverlovingfuck, Clint was going to _die_. Bucky stopped reading and Bruce was giggling (really, there was no other word for it), Bucky nudging Clint’s right shoulder with his left. 

“Goddamn, ya gotta work on your stamina, Barton, if all it takes is a wink,” Bucky whispered into his ear, and Clint opened his mouth to snark him back, spluttering as he met Bucky’s gaze directly with a turn of his head...only to have Bucky _fucking wink_ at him. 

“I hate you, you filthy pornstar. Who even reads things like that out loud in a car?” It was a ridiculous and nonsensical retort, but it was all that Clint could manage, and Bucky leaned back against the middle of the backseat, looking unashamed. 

“You wanna know the one thing that bugs me about this story?” Bucky asked, and Clint gripped the steering wheel, feeling the deep pull of sudden nausea in the pit of his gut. 

“Nobody would let me box with this prosthetic. It would be against every rule...so unrealistic.”

At Bucky’s observation, Bruce launched into possible adjustments that might be made in this hypothetical world where Bucky was a boxer, Clint loosened his grip on the wheel slightly, and Bucky kept his eyes locked on the rear view for the rest of the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Boxer Bucky


	6. Instagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really have to shout out my wife, who did the art for this chapter. I texted her from the coffee shop where I write on Wednesday mornings in a flailing panic about not having an image to go with this chapter, and by Sunday she had finished the piece for me. She gives no shits about Winterhawk, fanfiction, or the fandom in general but she did it anyway because she thinks I'm cute or something?
> 
> Anyway, find her info in the end notes, and enjoy!

“Welp. This is it, Buckaroo. The last major social media platform to learn, and you’ll officially be caught up with the times. You ready?” Clint languidly looked over at Bucky, who was scrolling through his StarkTech phone, brows furrowed in such a way that Clint knew to brace himself for a question. 

“So...it’s just pictures?” Bucky asked, blue eyes meeting Clint’s from across the short distance between them on the couch in Clint’s apartment. Bucky was curled up under a blanket, a typical habit of his regardless of temperature, and Clint had simply been drinking in his fill, head against the back of the couch, gaze bouncing in between Bucky’s scrolling and the TV, which was playing, uh...sports? Something about sports. 

So, right. Clint had been staring. Again. 

“Just pictures. We’re a vain generation, pal, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Clint joked, moving over ever so slightly to get a glimpse of the screen. Bucky turned it toward him and Clint watched as he flicked between all of their profiles. Tony’s consisted of a lot of suits, tech, and ops of him blowing kisses into crowds of crooning reporters. Steve’s was much more artful, pictures of motorcycles on random city streets that he liked, the sunset reflecting over the water, a rare photo of himself and Sam here and there on their early morning runs around the city back before the fall of the Tower. When Bucky searched for and found Clint’s Instagram account, he instantly laughed. 

“Clint,” Bucky chuckled, “I shoulda known.”

Clint elbowed Bucky playfully in the ribs. “What was that, asshole? You gotta problem?”

Bucky replied immediately. “Nope, no problem. I mean really, what else could a fella ask for other than pictures of dogs and impressive looking target shots?”

Clint grinned. “Exactly. Ooh, look at that one. I dunno what he is, owner didn’t either, but he was some kinda mutt and real old and I got to pet him for like four straight minutes.” Clint sighed, leaning over further in order to rest his head on Bucky’s flesh shoulder. “That was a good day, Buck.”

Bucky set down the phone and ruffled Clint’s hair, the metal of his hand feeling warm to the touch. “You’re a ridiculous man, Barton.”

That was all that it took, really. Clint had known that it was coming; how could he not have expected to fall in love with finality, given the persistent ache of affection that had taken residence in his body over the last few months? He just hadn’t been sure what it would be, that final push. Would it be a lust-filled overspill that led to clacking teeth and clothed friction? A moment of shared trauma that sewed Clint’s heart to Bucky’s? 

No. It was a quiet moment curled up on Clint’s couch, a blanket between them, a hand in his hair and that voice ghosting with warm breath into Clint’s ear. 

“Well, Supreme Leader, you’ve gotta help me look decent then, don’t you?” Bucky asked suddenly, shifting slowly to give Clint a second to move as Bucky stood. “If I gotta have one of these, I wanna at least look good for my first photograph.”

Clint shook his head, shook out of his reverie, and snorted. “_Photograph_, jesus gramps. But fine, I suppose I can do something with that ugly mug of yours.” Bucky faked a look of being affronted, Clint winked at him and then led Bucky to his bathroom. 

Clint’s bathroom? A mess. To the shock of nobody, of course, but in Clint’s mind it was perfectly organized chaos. He knew where everything was, thank you very much. 

“Sit,” Clint directed, pointing Bucky over to the chair in front of the vanity. _The vanity._ Fucking Tony Stark and rich people. 

Regardless, Bucky sat and tracked Clint as he opened drawers, pulling out random sprays, spritzes, combs, ties and brushes. By the time Clint turned back around, Bucky looked both amused and legitimately curious. 

“I used to be a makeup artist. Did hair, too, for most of the performers in the circus,” Clint said by way of explanation though he knew that it made little sense.

“It’s been a long time since the circus, Clint,” Bucky pointed out, not unkindly. Clint picked up a bottle of conditioning spray and stepped toward Bucky, who opened his knees and allowed Clint to intrude into his space with the ease of taking a breath. Clint watched as Bucky closed his eyes, and the implicit trust in the action burned the inside of his throat. 

“You don’t say,” Clint joked lightly, spraying Bucky’s hair lightly. Clint used his hand to tentatively and carefully lift Bucky’s heavy locks, spritzing the underside. He contemplated what to say, how to explain it, the ridiculous _thing_, and allowed himself the time to finish conditioning Bucky’s hair and grab a brush before continuing. 

“You got anything from way back when, from your childhood or something, brings you comfort?” Clint asked, running the brush through Bucky’s waves, followed by his spread fingers. The feel of Bucky’s hair beneath his palm was almost too much and he felt dizzy with it, the intimacy and the sensation swirling around him. He wondered if Bucky felt it too, wondered how he couldn’t. 

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, thinking. Clint used his hand to life Bucky’s head by way of his chin, and Bucky opened his eyes and smiled at him. _Hi, there._

“It’s gonna sound real silly, but I keep on having Friday order me all these old candies. 5th Avenue bars, Sugar Babies, Red Hots. It’s just for a second but they take me back, ya know? Before everything got all fucked up, when things were simpler...oh. Oh, yeah, I see. I got it,” Bucky said, because of course he would get it. 

Clint shrugged his shoulders and tossed the brush aside, using his fingers to separate a small section of hair at Bucky’s temple. He worked nimbly, quickly, muscle memory allowing him to focus on the conversation rather than the braid.

“I just keep buyin’ stuff. Rarely use it, really, usually give it to Thor or Nat when there’s too much of it. You think yours sounds silly? Sometimes I spray hairspray around like it’s fuckin’ air freshener. I got loads of makeup on one of those drawers,” Clint hesitated as he tied off the first braid and moved to Bucky’s other temple for the second, debating on if he should continue. 

_Ah, fuck it. He gets it. He gets me._

“I’ll do my old getup, my old makeup from when I was a performer. Never go anywhere, of course, but it makes me feel relaxed. Makes me think of simpler times, like you said, which is a hoot because even my time there wasn’t simple...but it was before.”

“Before Loki.” Bucky wasn’t asking. Clint nodded, tying off the second braid. 

“Yeah. Before Loki.” 

They both fell silent then as Clint finished Bucky’s hair, enjoying every second of closeness and fighting against the burning instinct to frame Bucky’s face with his hands and bring their lips together. He focused instead on his movements, the contrast between his pale and scarred skin lost in dark, lustrous locks. 

“There ya go. I’d say you’re fit for a nice _photograph_, your highness.” Clint stepped away from Bucky and extended an arm towards the mirror, inviting him to take a look. It was in the mirror that Clint watched Bucky’s face light up, his youth masking his years for a long, gorgeous moment. 

“Well goddamn,” Bucky said, “you got me all nice and cleaned up, didn’t you? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you might have a thing for those elves from the movies, the Tolkein ones.”

Clint laughed, felt it deep in his chest. “Yeah, I can see why you might say that. You want me to take your picture?”

Bucky considered for a moment before turning away from his reflection and toward Clint instead. He didn’t say anything at first, just flitted his eyes around Clint’s features. Between the two of them, Clint wasn’t sure who was blushing harder just before Bucky spoke. 

“You know, if it’s not too much bother, I think I might like to see what it looks like.” 

Clint waited for Bucky to continue, his heart pounding in his chest. 

Bucky cleared his throat. “Makeup. Some color on your lips, maybe? Charcoal around those pretty eyes of yours.”

Clint’s exhale was audible even to himself, and he watched Bucky start to scramble and open his mouth, no doubt to apologize or withdraw. 

“Okay,” Clint said quickly, freezing Bucky in place.

“Okay?” Bucky repeated.

“Yeah, babe. Let’s do this.”

*

Later that night Clint debated on whether or not it would be deemed stalkerish or sweet if he made the photo of the two of them the background on his phone. Maybe on his laptop, too. And if he wanted to print it out, frame it and keep it at his bedside, would anybody have to know? 

Because he couldn’t stop _smiling,_ and he couldn’t bring himself to scroll away from the photo. The selfie that they had taken, Clint leaning ever so slightly against Bucky, the deep violet on lips spread into a joyous grin, his eyes popping from where they had been outlined with eyeliner. Bucky had ‘helped’ him with that, and they had had to wait for twenty minutes before snapping the picture on Bucky’s phone. Partially because of Clint’s red and watery eye where Bucky had stabbed him with the eyeliner pencil, and partially because they were both a mess after being unable to breathe from laughing so hard about it. 

Moments before sleep took him under, Clint found himself tracing Bucky’s face on the phone screen as he read the caption out loud to his empty room. 

“Don’t we clean up nice?”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/170205563@N04/49237765746/in/photostream/lightbox/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Clint Does Bucky's Hair
> 
> Beautiful (I'm biased but not really in this case) art for this chapter done by my partner in crime. Find her on Tumblr or Instagram under the name gimpysoupcreations


	7. Skype

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> It's been weeks since I've touched this fic...oops. Holidays, the Winterhawk Wonderland exchange, and wrapping up Bated Breath behind the scenes have been consuming my time. However, all of those things have been checked off and therefore I am here to post the final chapter of this ridiculous little thing :)
> 
> Thank y'all for your patience; I don't deserve a single one of you. I hope you enjoy the last chapter!

The tone was familiar, it just wasn’t a melody that Clint was used to hearing at 2:30 in the morning. It woke him, and as he stirred into consciousness he realized two things almost simultaneously: First, he had fallen asleep on the couch, and second, he had been laying on his left hearing aid all wrong and that shit _hurt_. 

“Tony’ll murder me to pieces if I break another one,” he mumbled to himself, sitting up and swaying slightly as he did so. It was dark in his living room, save for the glow of his laptop screen. Quiet, too, except for the “doo do do, do do dee” tone blaring from the same godforsaken thing, notifying him that he had an incoming Skype video call. 

Seriously. What the fuck.

It was from a name that he didn’t recognize initially, but it only took him a moment to piece it together. Even half asleep, Clint was sharp enough to add one and one to get two, and the username “Jimmy Barnacles” could only be one of two people; Kate fucking with him, or Bucky fucking with him. 

And since it was 2:30 in the motherfutzing morning, it helped to narrow down the suspects to one James B. Barnes, super soldier extraordinaire with exquisite insomnia issues. 

Clint ran a hand through his hair, feeling the short strands flop instantly back into the insane tousle that often came with falling asleep on the couch. The tone dragged on, and he let it, despite knowing full well that he would answer. 

“Sure as shit,” Clint said after accepting the call only to find an artificially-lit, yet still gorgeous as sin face staring back at him from the screen. Bucky looked tired yet supernaturally goddamn beautiful, pale skin awash in the light from his own laptop screen. His hair was loose and hanging in waves, and from what Clint could tell he wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Clint’s heart beat painfully at the sight. Christ, but the man _took his breath away_. 

“My username must’ve given me away, then,” Bucky cracked, his voice sleep-filled and his smile lopsided. “Why in the hell would you answer at this god awful hour if you knew who it was?”

Clint shrugged and yawned, covering his mouth with a bandaged hand. “Probably wouldn’t have answered for anyone else, so be grateful, asshole,” Clint said lowly, his own throat filled with dry, mid-dream gravel. Bucky raised an eyebrow in response and his smile grew slightly larger, and even more crooked. 

_Shit,_ Clint thought, his brain catching up with his mouth. “Anyway,” he interjected quickly, “there doesn’t seem to be an emergency in your apartment, from the looks of it, unless you’re being held hostage by some off-screen thug with scary weapons?” Bucky shook his head, looking amused, and Clint’s fingers twitched with the desire of wanting to twirl the lock of hair that fell into Bucky’s face between his fingers. 

“Welp. Didn’t think so. So what kind of fuckery are you up to, calling me at this ‘god awful’ hour, anyway?” Clint continued, trying to distract from his not-quite-a-confession-but-too-close-for-comfort slip from the moment before. 

And Bucky, the absolute menace that Clint had fallen in love with, had the audacity to not even look the least bit frazzled when he spread those gorgeous lips and let tumble three words that caused Clint’s throat to seize and the air to burn in his lungs:

“I missed you.” 

Clint stared. Bucky stared back. Clint wanted to be there, in that apartment, so badly that he felt as though if he tapped his heels together that’s where he would wind up. Because where else would feel like home?

“Did the screen freeze?” Bucky asked suddenly, and Clint blinked. 

He tried to clear some of the gravel from his throat. “Nope. Just me. There’s a glitch, in the…” Clint’s reference fell off and fizzled out and he gestured vaguely. “What do you mean, you missed me? You saw me today! Er, yesterday. Semantics.”

Bucky’s face softened and he propped his chin on his flesh hand, elbow on what Clint had gleaned was his dining room table. 

“You’re adorable when you get tongue tied, ya know that?” Bucky asked, and goddammit. 

“‘m not,” Clint argued, feeling as childish as he knew he sounded, but he couldn’t accept what was happening. Pretty soon he would wake up on the couch with a crick in his neck and a sore ear, all of this...incredibly nice interaction having been nothing more than a dream. 

“You don’t get a say in if you’re adorable or not. You’re adorable when you deny you’re adorable, though,” Bucky said, and his floppy, soft smile became a shit eating grin. “And you’re annoying when I don’t want to play Mario Kart. Oh, and you’re especially obnoxious when I use Google to prove myself right in an argument, but that one’s on you, pal. You’re gorgeous in the range and oblivious as all hell when a fella’s been trying to flirt with you for weeks.”

Clint made a strangled sound. “Weeks?!”

Bucky had the decency to look sheepish, finally. “Shut up. Fine. Months.”

Clint hid his face in his hands. “Months?” It came out weak, and Clint thought about the Tumblr conversations with the wrong guy, the frankly unfair teasing with the fanfiction, the intimacy that thrummed around them when Clint had his hands in Bucky’s hair and Bucky’s thumb had brushed Clint’s bottom lip and come away purple with lipstick.

Things fell silent, though Clint wondered if maybe Bucky could hear is ragged breathing, his blood singing in his veins and through his thundering heart. 

“Clint?” Bucky asked, and there was a shift in his voice that spurred Clint to look back to the screen. Bucky worried his bottom hip for a second, his eyes burning Clint from the inside out, even through the screen. 

“Is this...is this not okay? I thought, I mean, I know you’re friendly with everyone here but I was thinking that I was getting a, a feeling from you? But if I was wrong-”

“Not wrong,” Clint said and it was forceful, loud in the room around him. “Fuck, Bucky, so not wrong. You are the rightest you’ve ever been. I just.” Clint licked his bottom lip; even from the screen, he noticed Bucky tracking his tongue. “Months. I’ve been pining over you like I live in some dime-store romance novel, and I could’ve...we could’ve…”

“We could’ve,” Bucky finished, and his face was no longer in his hand. Rather, he had gotten closer to the screen and Clint could make out small crow’s feet in the corners of his tired eyes, now alight with something bordering on joy. “You mean it? It’s not just me?”

Clint laughed, the ridiculousness of the question tickling. “Fuck no, not just you. Oh my God, Buck, did we really have to do this over Skype? You couldn’t have knocked on my door?”

Bucky leaned back then, and Clint took in his fill of his bare chest, what he could see of it around Bucky’s crossed arms.

“I mighta been a bit chickenshit,” Bucky admitted without a hint of embarrassment. “But do I need to point out that apparently if I didn’t say something, we would have gotten old and died before anything happened? Because I sure as shit didn’t hear you making any declarations, old man.”

A fire lit in Clint’s belly at how _easy_ this suddenly was, and how easy he knew it would be from here on out. He was Clint, and it was Bucky, and they just made sense.

“You’ve got thirty seconds to get down here before I turn off my laptop, take out my aids and go to sleep, Soldier,” Clint said mercilessly, and to his absolute delight Bucky was suddenly _gone_ from the screen after taking a split second to shoot Clint a smirk and a playful salute. He hadn’t even closed his laptop, and Clint’s smile blossomed as he listened to Bucky stumble over something, curse under his breath, and open and close his own door. 

Clint counted to twenty-three before he heard it, the rapping of Bucky’s metal fingers against his door, and he took care to close his own laptop before bounding over to let Bucky into the apartment. 

After all, there were some areas where technology simply wasn’t needed, and getting his mouth on Bucky’s as quickly as possible was one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BINGO Square Fill: Mutual Pining

**Author's Note:**

> BINGO Square Fill: The Internet

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [James Barnes Does Not Want A Prosthetic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150309) by [Amahami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amahami/pseuds/Amahami)


End file.
